Cavatina: In Bloom
by Scripturiens
Summary: A collection of short entries in celebration of digiOTPweek. Day 5: Hydrangea [Natsuko x Keisuke]
1. L'iris

**Disclaimer:** Digimon does not belong to me.

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 **Notes:** Part one of #digiOTPweek's event on Tumblr.

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 **Title:** Cavatina: In Bloom (L'iris)  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Genre:** Friendship  
 **Prompt:** "Your friendship is precious to me"  
 **Word Count:** 972  
 **Summary:** He is reminded, once again, how right his son was when he said the Tachikawas were peculiar. [Hiroaki x Satoe]

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[15/08/16]

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It shouldn't surprise him, considering who she's related to, but it still shores him momentarily every time she greets him so cheerfully. This time though, her face relaxes and he realises it's _relief_ , not glee, and it reminds him why he's here at this hour of the night and why she's still wearing her coat, even though the coffee shop is warm enough.

"Ishida," she sighs, waving. "Thank you for meeting me here."

He nods, signalling at the waitress for coffee and settles on the bench opposite to her, squashing the last of his cigarette with only a tiny pang of regret.

"Keisuke?"

"Business," she answers with a pout. "Moving back has been a bit of a hassle."

Hiroaki nods, knowing well enough just how much of a hassle work can be, and his tone is more apologetic this time, when he speaks.

"I'm sorry we had to meet like this."

It's true, and he _is_ sorry, because despite the frequency of these little reunions, they're still awkward and he still doesn't know what to do with himself whenever they're around. It can't be any easier though, being on the other end of that table, but Satoe smiles kindly, waving a careless hand.

"You shouldn't be," she explains meekly, muttering her thanks when the waitress brings two mugs of hot, dark roast coffee. "If anything, I'm _glad_ it was you."

Hiroaki scratches his chin absently, swallowing. He always comes home late, works too much, smokes too much, and isn't there enough for his kids, let alone _other_ people's kids. So he's not sure what exactly she means, or if she thinks that maybe, because it's _him_ , he won't think of her as a lousy parent (he doesn't, could never), won't judge her, or them. So he clears his throat, pulling the mug closer.

"I don't know about that..."

"You've been so good to her, to all of them," Satoe says, resting her cheek against her hand. "You don't think they recognise that?"

It bothers him because he's a grown man, divorced, a father of two, and this woman, happily married, with a kid, says something like _that_ and he's blushing like a summer tomato. He's never been great at taking compliments, especially not about his parenting skills, and she seems to believe he should be winning awards for it. He is reminded, once again, how right his son was, when he said the Tachikawas were _peculiar_.

"You must think we coddle Mimi too much," she giggles, twisting her napkin between manicured fingers. "You wouldn't be wrong, I suppose."

He opens, his mouth, wanting to say _no_ , _of course not_ , but he's never been good at not speaking his mind, either. So he says, "I think it'd be hard not to, with her."

She's beaming quietly and he has to smile, because it's obvious that even in these moments, she is still so proud of her. And he can't say he blames her; the fact that they're both here, now, is something that makes him proud, too.

"My daughter really likes your son," she says after a moment, weighing the words in her mouth as though she isn't sure if she should be saying them. "She hasn't _said_ anything, really, but she's always complaining about him, and Mimi only ever talks about the things that matter to her."

He can't stop himself from laughing this time, and he sets the mug between them as a reminder of where he is, and who he's talking to. His answer is a little more careful, but his tone is kinder than it usually is, perhaps _because_ it's her.

"He smiles more, when she's around," he admits. "But I don't know anyone who doesn't."

"Ahh," she nods, understanding. "She's lucky to have such good friends."

Recognising the signs of fatigue is something he is uncannily good for, and he offers to drive her back to her building (it's only a few blocks, but it's late and he knows how the city can be, to people like her), but she tells him she drove herself in anticipation of that.

"I'm sorry you had to drive all the way down here," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Yamato and—,"

"No, that's okay, you've already done so much," Satoe sighs. "I'll talk to her in the morning, it's not like her to do things like this—,"

"They think they've only got each other," Hiroaki says after a moment, staring at the last dregs of his cold coffee. "But they've got us, too."

"Yes," her smile is bright, soft, as she stands. "They do."

And because it's her, because she is Mimi's mother and Keisuke's wife, she hugs him tight and her embrace, though brief, is warm, and grateful, and scared all at the same time. He tries to return the pressure and succeeds only before she lets go, and he is struck at how much her daughter resembles her. That, right there, is a sort of strength that's completely different to the one their children have, but it is no less important and he hopes she knows that, too.

"You know, if I had to choose," she says, very carefully. "It'd be someone like him."

He's taking out a cigarette, lighting it to stifle the surge of pleasure he gets from hearing that about his son, no matter how it's not the time or place to say so, at all. So he laughs, taking the first drag deep inside his lungs.

"I bet Keisuke'd be thrilled."

Satoe is already inside the car, and she laughs into her tiny hand as the other grips the steering wheel.

"You'd be surprised," she says. "It's Susumu's boy that makes him nervous. Good night, Hiroaki."

And he waves, nodding gruffly. "Good night, Satoe."


	2. Les lilas mauve

**Notes:** Part two of #digiOTPweek's event on Tumblr. Also, I'm trash, I'm trash, I will _never_ not be trash.

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 **Title:** Cavatina: In Bloom (Le lilas mauve)  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Genre:** Friendship/Family/Romance  
 **Prompt:** "The First Emotion of Love"  
 **Word Count:** 930  
 **Summary:** It's so obvious. [Toshiko x Yamato]

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[17/08/16]

His fingers touch the little heart-shaped petals, wondering at their soft, velvety feel. He has been in the shop countless times with Sora, a couple on his own, covering for her when she runs late from practice. So he's no stranger to the flower-buckets that line the walls or the fragrant, smooth cherrywood tables that occupy the centre of the establishment, but he has never _actively_ practiced ikebana before. That is, until now.

"I'm not sure I'm doing it right," he mutters under his breath after pricking his finger with an uncut thorn.

"You're doing fine," Sora assures him, patient as ever. "Just do whatever you feel like doing."

A cool, smooth voice that is completely unlike Sora's sweet, high tones, speaks behind them, making them both jump up.

"There's a purpose to everything in ikebana," she chides gently. "You of all people know that, Sora."

Sora nods, fingers deftly cutting the top of a thin bamboo pipe and introducing it into her arrangement. She steps back, observing the way the camellias bow down into each other and frowns. "Yes, you're right," she admits. "It feels all over the place."

At this point, Yamato is scandalized. His own arrangement consists of nothing but bamboo grass, a few twigs he thought looked sturdy enough and bits of yellow fern. He has no idea what he's doing, or why he even agreed to it in the first place, shooting Sora a dark look as she sets her hands on the table, smiling.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm—,"

"Is it okay if we order takeout?"

Toshiko looks up at her daughter's eager smile, lips spreading like a flower in bloom. "Why don't you two go out? It's early."

"I'll change then," Sora says, touching Yamato's arm lightly. "Wait for me?"

"Wouldn't dare not to," he sighs, setting his tools down and dusting his hands over the table.

Across from him, Sora's mother is still very carefully clipping tiny twigs and twisting them into elegant archs with sweet, strong colours and he is once again astounded at how different mother and daughter are. In comparison, Sora's arrangement looks small, still hesitant, too bright and bulky and too much of everything and his — well, his is just all shades of wrong.

"Her mind's not in it," she speaks, and Yamato looks up, ashamed to have been caught staring.

"I'm sure that's not exactly—,"

"It's quite alright. She's had a lot going on, with school and," she coughs into her hand, very politely. "Other things."

He's thinking about homework, and tennis, late-night phone conversations and unexpected knocks on his bedroom window when he nods absently, saying, "Yeah," and doesn't seem to notice that Toshiko's hands have stopped moving for a moment, glancing at him out of the corner of her ruby eyes.

"Ikebana is about telling a story," she says, pulling out a long branch of peach blossoms and holding it carefully between expert fingers. "You need to focus on the most important elements and find a way to make them work together, for you. It is the way of flowers."

He tries to focus on what she's saying, but he's still thinking about all the things he should've said, and all the things he hasn't and won't. His hands brush against the heart-shaped petals, vividly purple and beautiful and breathes in the familiar scent. He hesitates only a moment but then his fingers are back on it, twisting it into a long arch, like a hand reaching out to something or someone.

He reaches for a single long twig and fresh sprigs of lavender tied around a few camellia leaves. He leans closer, and the smell is just barely there, enough to make him blush and straighten at once when he catches Toshiko's eye.

"Lilacs?" she asks, as though confused at his choice. Yamato is at a loss, because he doesn't know how to explain why he does the things he does, so he shrugs in what he seems to believe is nonchalance.

"I like the way they smell," he answers, as honestly as he dares. "Sweet, kind of like fruit; and flowery, but not that fake flower-soap smell, I guess."

Her hands twist knots and strings and her smile is softer this time as she pulls back the folded leaves and clips them one by one, thinking about the sweetness of youth and how grateful she is to be able to witness it. In a bout of impatience completely uncharacteristic of her but brought about by this sudden thrill, she walks around the table next to him, her hands deftly smoothing out the most visible wrinkles in his work. She steps back, admiring it with her chin on one pale hand.

"It's beautiful," she tells him. "And it's your first. You should keep it."

Before she can say anything else (and there are so many things she wants to say), Sora is back through the door, changed and carrying a small purse in her hands, adjusting a sunflower clip on her hair. She looks beautiful and he looks relieved, like only young people like them can be.

"I'm ready! Sorry for the wait."

 _It's so obvious._

Yamato shakes his head before turning to her, bowing slightly. "Thank you for everything, Takenouchi-san."

"Have fun."

 _You're in love_ —

"Hey, Yamato," Sora calls over her shoulder, right at the door. "I asked Mimi to come, can you walk her home?"

It takes all but two seconds and his smile slips slightly, cheeks colouring, and he almost stumbled as he looks away, sighing.

"Sure..."

 _—and it's not my daughter._


	3. Fleur-de-lis

**Title:** Cavatina: In Bloom (Fleur-de-lis)  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Genre:** Friendship/Romance  
 **Prompt:** "I wish you were here"  
 **Word Count:** 442  
 **Summary:** Is that strange? [Yamato x Mimi]

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[19/08/16]

It's late, when the phone rings. He reaches blindly for it, trying to follow it's erratic vibration and without even glancing at the name (he knows who's the only person that would call him at this hour), and sighs loudly into the phone.

"Please go back to sleep."

Instead of Taichi's whining, he hears someone catching her breath slowly and his eyes open groggily, narrowing slightly.

 _"Hey."_

His voice is softer now, more awake.

"Hey."

 _"Were you expecting someone else?"_

He hesitates, running a tired hand over his face. He doesn't know why it's so hard to just tell her but he swallows the sudden lump in his throat and places a hand under his pillow, propping himself up. The bedroom is dark and quiet and he can hear a dog barking in the distance, an all-nighter freight-liner honk his way across the bridge. Outside this apartment, the world is still alive and across this telephone line, her day has barely started. It's weird.

"No," he says. "Just ... Taichi. Never mind."

 _"I'm sorry for calling so late, I was just thinking and then..."_

"Yeah?"

 _"I figured maybe you'd be up."_

"Is everything okay?"

 _"Everything's fine! It's snowing again and I thought of you. Is that strange?"_

"I hate snow," he yawns, trying to keep from getting too comfortable.

 _"Yeah?_ _"_ A pause. _"I guess you do."_

This is not the first time she calls in the middle of the night to make an idle observation and he still isn't sure what makes her do it, but an odd feeling lingers every time she cuts the line off and he doesn't want her to do that just yet. So he reaches with his hand out into the air, past the ceiling of his bedroom, the other five stories above him, past the very lines of Tokyo's skyline, his fingers grasping for something he cannot really _see_. Their conversation is nothing he can put into clear words afterwards, not a single thought worth bringing up but her words burn brightly in his brain.

 _"Hey, Yamato?"_

He falls asleep, naturally. It's exams week and he's been studying hard with Sora and Taichi. His voice is like an anchor and this silence that fills the space between them reminds her of the width and length of her melancholy. His eyes flutter open as the line goes dead — just for a moment, a second or ten. She has an odd way of saying things and he can't help but wonder about her. His face turns towards the pillow and he falls back asleep, fingers outstretched towards nothing in particular.

 _It's snowing again and I thought of you._


	4. Souci

**Title:** Cavatina: In Bloom (Souci)  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Genre:** Friendship/Family  
 **Prompt:** "Pain and grief"  
 **Word Count:**  
 **Summary:** Loss and how we deal. [Mimi x Ken]

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[12/08/16]

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They all tell her how beautiful the service was. Miyako and Hikari had ended up in tears and Sora had brought baked goods and barley tea for everyone. They had spent the afternoon together, offering their support in the best way they knew. She doesn't text any of them but one, and him only to offer an apology. She spends that afternoon at home, caught in an inexplicable melancholy her parents don't know how to deal with.

It is still high autumn and the trees around the cemetery are shedding their browning leaves. As the Ichijoujis' car slows down, Ken looks longingly at the sky. Today marks the sixth anniversay of Osamu's passing and the loneliness that's always a step behind is all around him, now. His parents are speaking quietly to each other but he has finely tuned them out and he is the first out of the car when they finally arrive.

"Did you bring your offerings, Ken-kun?" his mother asks and Ken nods silently. He has never once forgotten but she always asks. His father squeezes his shoulder and Ken smiles, though his eyes are beginning to water.

"I'll be back," he says, inclining his head and turning on his heel before they can protest. His feet carry him away through the graves of countless strangers and he wonders how a place so peaceful can be so full of loss. He walks with his hands deep in his coat's pockets, trying to recall memories of his lost brother only to get increasingly anxious as he realises they are so few and already so old. The service held the day before was heavy with stories about the eldest Ichijouji son and Ken's heart breaks again as he thinks how few of those he shared in, if at all.

By the time he comes back, Mr. and Mrs. Ichijouji have moved to a stone bench a few feet away, giving him the privacy he never asked for. There is a spray of bright marigolds that look at odds with the soothing incense and the washed-out colours of the graveyard; Ken is overwhelmed as he draws closer and reaches for the small box that has his name on it. He doesn't recognise the handwriting but tears the paper off and his heart shrinks as he draws out a small children's toy and an accompanying card:

 _Don't forget to send a message!_

 _Love,_

 _Mimi_

The dead leaves rustle in the crisp autumn wind and with it, bright soap bubbles that go high, high in the air.


	5. Hortensia

**Title:** Cavatina: In Bloom (Hortensia)  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Genre:** Friendship/Family  
 **Prompt:** "Heartfelt Gratitude"  
 **Word Count:** 1,058  
 **Summary:** He really is an extraordinary young man. [Natsuko x Keisuke]

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[06/01/17]

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"I'm very sorry, they informed me Takaishi-san hasn't come into the office yet."

The sound of her name makes her tear her eyes from the paper, glancing up curiously at the front desk just as she walks in. Sagara-san, the receptionist, has her phone on one hand and an apologetic look on her face as she bows to a man around her age who's wearing a sharp suit and tinted glasses. The enormous flower bouquet doesn't register until much later and then, only as an afterthought.

 _Pretty_.

"Ohayou, Sagara-san," she says, announcing her presence. The young girl jumps a little but smiles brightly back at Natsuko's polite greeting.

"Ohayou, Takaishi-san! Tachikawa Keisuke is here to see you!" She notices the girl is blushing furiously, lips trembling as she fights to stifle a giggle. Natsuko raises both eyebrows but ignores it, turning to the man who is suddenly _beaming_ before her.

"Takaishi-san!" he exclaims happily, voice booming. "Good gracious, you look _lovely._ "

"Tachikawa-san," she says, blushing and looking at Sagara for some indication of _why_ her sons' friend's father is in her building, asking for her. "I - well, _thank you,_ is-is there anything I can do for you?"

The receptionist emits another shrill giggle and this time Natsuko is visibly alarmed.

"Maybe we should move to my office," she says, uneasy.

"Don't forget the flowers, Tachikawa-san!" the girl squeaks and he returns, quite ecstatic.

"Yes! Right you are, thank you. Have a lovely day!"

 _Flowers?_

Natsuko's hand pauses at the elevator door when she sees Keisuke carrying the rather gigantic flower arrangement she had first noticed when she'd walked in.

"Wh-what are those?" she asks.

"I believe they are a mixture of hydrangeas and peonies," Keisuke answers, stepping into the elevator and smiling at the people who walk in. "Toshiko-san's own recommendation." He's winking at her like she's supposed to _get_ it, but all she can do is hope the elevator ride is inexplicably short and her co-workers stop looking at her like that.

Once the doors open, Natsuko rushes towards her office and opens it, throwing her purse down and looking up when he walks in. She can see the rows of people snickering at the flowers and moves, suddenly, to close the door.

"Tachikawa-san—,"

"Please, call me Keisuke."

"I — Keisuke-san," but she can't finish, because now he's handing her the flowers and she's suddenly drowned in a sea of yellow, orange and pink. "What's this?"

Natsuko places the flowers on the desk and sits, looking at him levelly. He is a tall man, rather young (younger than Hiroaki, at least) and handsome as a devil. She imagines what the ladies outside would think of him storming in after her with a giant flowers and once again feels embarrassed she's about to have this conversation. Last time she checked, he was a happily married man, so why...?

Her worry must be showing, because Keisuke is suddenly frowning.

"I'm sorry, should I have gotten something else?" he asks, suddenly concerned. "Toshiko said these were perfect for the occasion and I admit I'm more of a roses man myself, but she warned me it might send out the wrong signal ... imagine that! I get Satoe roses _all_ the time, I don't know what's suddenly so _wrong_ about them!"

"No, the hydrangeas are nice!" she assures him. "Very bright, not at all in season ... must've been expensive," she ends the last on a breath, too embarrassed to look him in the eye now. "I'm just not sure, ah, what the occasion _is._ "

At that, Keisuke seems perplexed.

"Why, they're a token of our gratitude, for all your family has done for our princess."

"Come again?"

She thinks she sees the exact moment he understands, for his eyebrows shoot up and he looks rather mortified himself, though it's only for a second.

"Ahh," he says. "I see." He removes his glasses and Natsuko is taken aback by how pretty and bright his eyes are, so she leans back on her chair and avoids staring into them for too long, sure they've already caused enough of a confusion at the office.

"These are from my wife and I, she insisted I deliver them myself since I wasn't here last week when — well, we just wanted to say _thank you_. Yamato-kun was so kind, we really couldn't ask for better friends for our dear Mimi. And that is, thanks in no small part, to you."

Suddenly she realises this is what Takeru had been talking about, a few nights before, on the phone. Natsuko feels a lump form in her throat and she manages to smile at him. She'd been concerned when the words _ran away_ and _you can't do that_ had crossed her son's lips, but he had assured her Yamato was safe at home, with their father. Natsuko had been aching to, but she didn't pry.

"I'm embarrassed to admit it, but our Mimi seems to be in a bit of, ahh, how shall I say it? A _phase_ , if you will. We just wanted to make sure you knew how much Yamato-kun means to us, that's all." Keisuke smiles kindly. "He really is an extraordinary young man."

Irrationally, she finds that she wants to cry. She has always known her sons are special ( _extraordinary, yes)_ , but it's an entirely different thing to have another adult recognise that. Not only that, Keisuke is _thanking_ her, as if she had anything to do with it, as if she could take credit for how humble and good her son has turned out to be. Natsuko's face softens, and when she looks back up he's holding a pocket handkerchief out. She takes it gratefully, dabbing at her eyes and regretting ruining what feels like fine silk. Everything about Keisuke is just _too much_.

"They're good kids," Natsuko finally says, finding her voice. "Mimi-chan, and the rest, too."

Keisuke's smile is firm on his lips and he places his shades back upon his face as he gets to his feet.

"Apples never fall far from the tree, Natsuko-san."

He leaves before she can register a proper reply and in his absence, her hands find the flowers he has left. The bouquet is bright and warm like sunshine, sweet like honey. She'll have to talk to Sagara-san sooner rather than later, but for now, it can wait.


End file.
